Desires
by FanFicAddict02
Summary: When Jessie believes she's lost everything of value, she goes to desperate measures to be the leader of her own life. But will her loved ones be brought down too? WxJ
1. The Empty Forms

_**Desires at the Twilight Dusk.**_

Disclaimer: I do not own Toy Story.

**"Embers of Putridity float the Night Sky. Destined to be a star, oh they will. As the dawn stirs a new awaken will rouse and grants thought impossible will stray the air."**

…

_Little to nothing, he could match up to._

_"You can never amount to anything."_

_Silence settled._

_Tasks as little as those expected of him, he could no longer succeed._

_"You are a failure to this family."_

_No answer came. More silence followed._

_Alike those of example, he wasn't._

_"Your grandmother's 'stir in soul', son, got her nowhere. The blind hag's dolls have all rotted away into foul rubbish. She was crazy, and you'll end up the same freaking position if you keep on bloody 'dreaming' like this." A darker voice perched. "Why couldn't you be like what we wanted you to be?"_

_No answer was to be found; no voice was to be heard. Stillness sounded._

_The heights, he couldn't climb._

_"Your thoughts are going to do nothing for you but lead you astray from what truly matters. And you're barely wanted here - never mind over there. No - you need logic. The logic your mind lacks. Half a mind to lead you up the mountain. And if you happen to find yourself on that mountain, you want to be a tiger - not the brittle-boned child we all know you truly are."_

_Nothing followed this - nothing can be perceived when the senses are lost. Silence spread._

_Vainglorious, he was far from._

Cascading thoughts masked the voices of uncertainty wandering aimlessly through his mind, overwhelming them. A dark silhouetted man loomed heavily within sight, his bulky frame protruding against the dim light that escaped through the open door of the basement three or so meters above the floor.

Despite the light, thick shadows cushioned the ground like sentimentalising mist. All forms of restful tranquillity were rendered disillusioned as they, to no possible avail, attempted to settle the half-hearted commotion disturbing the thoughts of the inanimate perched quite frivolously in the room. The near-to-passed-middle aged man struck a match alight on the stone wall to his right as he passed by and, just as suddenly; a small flame suddenly blessed all he saw. The rest of the dark was guided towards the shadows as though the process were no more than the delicate figure of a compulsory routine.

Curiosity led his hazel eyes over towards the collectible doll that lay on the ground, resting on its bed of ivory tainted material. Exactly like this had happened every single day of his life, he made his way from the stone basement staircase and over towards the far wall near where the doll lay. It could be said that this was slightly peculiar, but it was far more than a hobby. So all claims opposing the facts of the situation would have been denied instantaneously; shot down for the insecurities they were. And it all will be standard when the appropriate time comes, he told himself. Oh yes, the brain gift he never had will be branded unnecessary - when all is proven.

It was all just a matter of time before the ways of his past were avenged.

Blowing out the match and reaching over to flick a switch that could be found at the end of the room - he'd always hated the layout of this building, it was too provoking to be true - disintegrating any stubborn traces of 'mist almost instantly. Suddenly, a small rag doll (though quite big in size compared to others) came into his view.

He smiled.

When the features of the rag doll became apparent, he felt zealous. The rag doll really was the exact replica of him. The perfect match - it was like looking into a mirror, excluding the form's size of course. Gleefully, he recognized that he had found the only rag doll in the world made for him. Made to replicate a human, unlike how many dolls were. Well - the facial features and the tone of the doll's body seemed to meet his own flawlessly. It was an exact modification of him - one he was glad to have found.

Besides this doll, however, another form lay. It was another stuffed one; the man had been able to tell. But the complexity of its body was far different when compared to the replica. No plastic but its piercing mauve eyes, seeming to hold within them little to no life, could be found upon its ragged frame. Yellow stitched yarn hung from its head of velvet like fabric, making it seem almost archaic; though it was only just as old as the replica, maybe a few years younger at the least to spare. This 'stuffed' toy was older than him, but only by a couple of decades, which was quite peculiar given that it looked almost fresh out of the box. However, this didn't matter to him. Not in the slightest. After all, every great male needed a female companion to make him seem, feel and act stronger…

Grinning ecstatically, he settled himself on his knees directly before the two dolls. Two pairs of lifeless eyes stared up at him in wonder - completely inanimate; still. Just as they should be around folk like him.

'Not for much longer.' He thought, eerily. 'You'll be like me soon enough, God bides by this - this'll work.'

He closed his eyes and allowed the energy to pour through him. In order for it to work, the minds needed to be open - in him and in the 'still' forms lying below him. This was why he moved so fluently, to ease their thoughts and settle down their anxieties. He just had to hope though.

"There's nothing to be afraid of; I know what you can do."

No answer - it was what he was used to after all. They were motionless.

"My brother was like you. " He said, his darkened voice barely a whisper. "But not quite as pure. He tampered with a folklorist one day and - well - he never stood up to his size again."

Nothing.

He swallowed hard, pressing his hands hard against his forehead and dragging them down. His heart beat quickened.

"He was only a boy when it happened. He was cursed so bad the change couldn't be undone. He was forgotten by everyone else - but not me. Never will be like that either. He was all I could've depended on at one point. He went insane at one point, knowing every darn thing that happened to him that day." He paused, his jaw almost quivering until he hooked a firm hand underneath it. "And he went on, pulling as hard as he could, for ages before he finally took the step forward and threw himself in the trash heading straight towards the incin-"

He stopped there, barely able to continue. "I've heard that toy's can be saddened at times over their own fate, that they're set for the heap sooner or later. My grandmother once told me that a human's mind will always be clearer than one similar to yours…"

Cutting himself off, he swallowed his words.

"Can you understand me?"

There was no answer. Finally, he sensed that he wasn't going to get one. In frustration, he rose to his feet and headed towards the far stone wall. He was stupid to have even started to believe that something like this would happen - they were almost far too loyal to break their unspoken vows. He ground his fist against the wall and rested his head against it, scratching the skin around his knuckles violently.

"It should work." He muttered uselessly. It should have worked the week before he had been desperate enough. His throat was tight now. "It should work, it should work, it should work, it should work, it should work!"

Catching himself before he could do anything drastic to hurt himself, he sighed heavily. Closing his eyes, he helplessly murmured. "I'm pointless." He was still for a few moments, making no movement whatsoever until his heart stopped dead in its tracks.

"You're not pointless. No one is."

Bewildered, he turned around instantly to catch the female doll sitting up, staring at him directly with her zealous orbs.

()()()()

_Nothing in the world could be louder than the sound of a bullet - or as utterly terrifying. What was always worse though, as the young small town Sheriff had come to unfaithfully learn over the years, would be the people behind the rusted magnum revolver and that was a genuine fact, as true as the dawning of the day behind its bland encasing of stained glass and damp timber. More often than not, the Outlaws he had sacrificed his time pursuing would be the ones to fire the first and the most shots in any given situation, with hunger for mortality and a thirst for blood lingering behind their cracked expressions. But he considered himself quite fortunate when he came to recollect his past, along with all the criminals and the outlaws on the way. Most would all have muscles of steel and veins of lead - but none were cunning enough to outwit him, all except one individual who shouldn't even be classed on his wanted list in the first place. Oh yes, the brains behind those stunning looks had been rather impeccable, but lacked the appropriate wisdom when it came to the thrill of the chase. Bazooka Jane is her name, and nothing was more exhilarating to her on a hot summer's day through the desert land than the sound of a bullet - or more utterly nerve chiding._

_This became painfully clear to the Sheriff as he turned the corner into the old abandoned mine on his noble steed. His horse, Bullseye, shuddered instantly at the cold. Of all the places she could have ventured off to trying to escape, she had decided to hide here._

_"Where the darn tootin' could she be, boy?" The Sheriff found himself uselessly muttering. He scanned the area around him for any sign of the suspicious cowgirl, only to find nothing but the dark. "It sure is dark in here, innit?"_

_The horse nodded his approval, neighing softly. Striding a few more steps, Bullseye suddenly froze in terror when he sensed something out-of-the-ordinary. The Sheriff must've senses it too, because he said: "Hang on a minute there, boy. I think I heard something"_

_"Oh, you did, Sheriff." A gentle voice, tinged with the tone of the wild-hearted, suddenly spoke. "And you're not alone in here neither. Why, there are plenty of us here."_

_As quickly as the last word had been uttered, blazing lights suddenly blinded Woody sending him hurtling off of his steed. He winced when he hit the ground, his pistol having caught his side in the fall. When he opened his eyes, however, his sight was filled by the frame of Dolly the Witch - the second most dastardly outlaw in the entire West - standing besides the Cowgirl._

_"Why, I say that your time's up, Sheriff."_

_Then, before he had any time to react, the blazing lights turned into darkness -_

_...  
><em>

_"Bonnie!" Ms. Anderson, barely a silhouette at the door, called. "Time to get yourself ready for Nana's, dear."_

_Holding in the urge to roll her eyes to the back of her head, Bonnie dropped her toys to the floor and answered: "Coming."_

_This was, and always will be, the playtime the toys would always remember -_

Vibrations, like those erupting across the Earth's surface after a particularly large Earthquake, coursed through his body, startling him completely.

"What?" He asked, shocked. He turned his head to catch sight of Jessie and Bullseye in the box. "What are you doing?"

"We're getting out of here."

A/N Sorry if this seems a bit vague, but it's been an idea I've had streaming through my head for a while now, and I just couldn't keep myself from typing it out. This was partially inspired by SpelldustQuill's dA pic 'Stroll in Starlight.' So I'd like to yell out a big 'Thank You' for that. :)

Hope you've all had a nice day!

~x~FanFicAddict02


	2. The Penniless Acts

_**Chapter Two**_

**"If one were to be dropped from a mountain, the only chance of survival they have is developing wings broad enough to catch the winds. Evolution - the ability to adapt. If not so, then how does one survive past the cruel drafts?"**

()()()()

_When is it that tears turn into rivers? Why did the single spark of hope set the underworld ablaze in perishing flames? When does a word form an argument? When will the small trace of exasperation morph violently into heated fury? And. ultimately, when does Love turn into something else? Something that hurts - something that burns?_

_She honestly couldn't see how he had handled it so easily. Her head began to reel just thinking about it. Flipped over, her mind found it incredibly difficult to deal with anything. The fact that he had remained so calm about it over the years confused her, and she simply couldn't get herself around any of it. Why, she couldn't deal with anything the way he dealt with prospects. It was like a part of him was willing to be toyed with by the hands of sickened Life - like it was only natural. But it wasn't, and she sure as hell knew it._

_If windows could block the paths of the worst away and curtains could conceal the pain, what would occur if the horrendous winds of pessimism simply tore the glass from its frame? Jessie often wondered how in the world he could have managed it, losing the one he loved the way he had, because she had been shattered completely._

_When her spirits were glum, her mind often trailed back to that unfaithful day. The way her life had been torn from its hinges so abruptly - how she had been helpless to it all...it hadn't made any sense to her and it still ceased to cross her mind now as something inevitable. To a particular extent, she was still in disbelief. It had happened so quickly that day, and she had lost many of her friends and her love because of it._

_Even the Sheriff could recall that day a decade and a half back as being one of the worst of his life, for the both o them actually. It had emptied whatever enthusiasm he had once had within him out completely, and it had shattered Jessie's soul completely. He would feel the melancholy swelling up inside him at times, but he could do little to nothing about it. With no knowledge of what would happen if he released the stresses building up inside him, he didn't want to risk pouring exasperation out on the only family he had left. Otherwise - well, he certainly didn't want to know what would happen if this did occur._

_She often recalled their last moment vividly and, whenever he did, her heart would shatter -_

_"Be quiet there, Ranger, or else you might catch unwanted attention."_

_He didn't answer, just followed her plainly._

_"You gonna teach me those moves ya told me about?" He didn't verbally communicate with her, instead nodding his answer. "Good. 'Cause I've been rather at the horses barn watching you salsa dance lately. I wanna learn 'em with ya." A smile. "Then we can show that Rex and Trixie that they aren't the only cute pair riding through these parts."_

_No words could be heard beyond his stammer._

_"Did Bonnie leave the cat in the house again? Because something's got your tongue in a knot."_

_He looked flustered. But it wasn't a blush. No - it was anxiety._

_Silence resumed._

_A voice in her mind spoke to her._

_"Buzz..." A quivering jaw she saw. "Buzz, what's the matter?"_

_A fixated gaze dropped to the floor._

_"Buzz-"_

_Nothing._

_"Buzz...?" Green emeralds simmered. "What's wrong?"_

_The silence was broken._

_"It's Bonnie - she's trying to buy a console and..."_

_"What?"_

_"She..."_

_"Spit it out!"_

_Desperate words echoed through him. He obliged._

_"She's-having-a-yard-sale!"_

_Metaphorical hearts dropped._

()()()()

"Bullseye!" She yelled frantically, her voice like a dagger in the thick layering of darkness. "Help me here!"

He neighed pointlessly, unable to see past her bland morals. The box was far too tall for them to simply climb out of it and the fact that the three of them were the only objects inside it only meant that they wouldn't have the force or the strength to break the box's seal, if they should so happen be able to topple the holding place over.

Biting her lip to keep herself from sighing in exasperation, she clenched her fists and turned around swiftly. Her movements propelled the air like hot ice.

"Are neither of you gonna help?" She asked expectantly, only to pull out the answer for her own question from their expressions. Woody was backed up against the far wall of the cardboard box, feeling ultimately useless. His main lesson in life now seemed clear enough. Ain't nothing going to stop him, apart from one of the weakest walls in the world. Fire, he can handle and being abused by Fate, he could tolerate - but trying to intentionally deny Jack's wants for the sake of himself? That drew the final border-line for him…and he had already past it. She knew it just as well as he did, but she disapproved. "We can't just stay here," She protested, though already unfaithfully aware of how the Sheriff toy saw the ethics of the situation. Feeling completely and utterly flabbergasted, she countered: "Fine! Then I guess I'll just handle it on my own."

She knew it was helpless. Frankly, everything was. No matter what they tried to do, something always had to catch up to them. Something always had to deprive them of the freedom they had been desperate to attain for years on end. The three of them had all been torn away from what they had once taken for granted, and they both thoroughly regretted not cherishing them more than they had. They had both been torn during their lifetimes, but Jessie more so when it came to her lack of experience and her ability to handle the memories she did have. She had been ripped away from the ones she cared about before, but never the way she had all those years ago. And she knew that trying to do anything to avoid what was inevitable was pointless, especially when she was aware that everything just revolved around one 'large' cycle. She'd be taken away from one person, handed to another just to be taken away again right as she was settling in - it wasn't anything more than that, and it was clear enough to her.

But she still tried. Hoping that, for just this one time, her efforts wouldn't be put to waste as she inhaled deeply. The stuffing in her stomach swelled and then loosened, before she coughed drastically. Her throat was tightening and her chest was beginning to heave. Her mind was spinning, quite literally.

Not this again….

_'Can't I go a single day without fretting like a sissy?'_ She asked herself in exasperation. Far beyond aggravated, she felt that things simply couldn't get any worse as she pondered over this question. Apparently, the answer was a down right no.

Placing her hands flat on the wall, she pushed against it with all of her might. The air was tranquil as she forced her weight into the material, barely even puncturing it, but she felt that this was contradicting. She wasn't feeling calm. In fact, she felt the clattering of swords against steel vibrate pugnaciously through her, aching her body. She felt sick.

"It's pointless." He said, truthfully. He brought his legs to his chest and turned his head. Beside him, he could clearly see, Bullseye sat with his hind legs stretching out at awkward angles. The horses face sopped, his ears dangling at the side of his head and his eyes were depressed and spiritless. He was just as pessimistic as any of the other two were at the moment and Woody could tell. And the horse couldn't express himself in the way Woody and Jessie could, so the Sheriff doll didn't know how this would've affected him. "There's never any way out from inside the box."

She was facing him now, her eyes shimmering with the tears she could not shred. "It's not fair…" Her words faded, and she buried her face inside her hands. The previous adrenaline that had floundered through her only a few moments before had now left her completely, leaving her feeling useless.

"I know it isn't, but this is what he wants."

It looked as though she hadn't acknowledged what he had just said, and now he felt wary. However, he was soon left remotely shocked.

"It's not fair," She said again, her voice like weak venom, dragging along as it passed. "They can't just do this to us. All the time…"

"Jess," He began, his voice dull. "You know there's no other way around it. This is what Lloyd wanted, you can't deny him that." He examined her cautiously, looking for any sign of paid attention. When she dropped her gaze to the base of the cardboard box, he guessed that the message had been received. He exchanged another pitiful glance with Bullseye. "Don't you worry one bit." He said, sincerely, shuffling his ways towards her and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Everything will be better soon. Just you see."

She looked up at him. "It's just gonna happen again, innit?" She asked weakly, biting her lip softly.

Woody thought, only arriving at one conclusion. "Yeah, but - that's just the way it goes. The way it's always supposed to go." He paused, exhaling deeply before sucking the breath back in. "You've just got to learn to accept it."

Nothing was said for a few more moments, and Woody wondered if Jessie was lost in thought. She was just _so_ still, almost unnatural. "But it's not going to get any better. Not after all we've lost. After you lost her and I lost…" She caught herself before she could continue, aware that it'd just shatter her completely. She was saddened.

The mention of this made Woody think back, way before all of this; way before their lives had been blown apart completely. It had been a time he had questioned himself, mainly about the morals of Life and why it treat him the way it had, asking himself if it could have been any worse when it was obvious that it could've. He came to recollect his times with Andy, and the day he lost the one he loved -

"Woody," Jessie said, breaking Woody out of his thoughts before he could drift off into a trance. She looked overwrought. "What are we going to do?"

He was beat. However, before he could answer, they felt the box shudder violently. The impact sent them sprawling.

They all gaped at each other in complete and utter shock.


	3. The Unheard

**_Chapter Three_**

"Woody?" She exclaimed, frightfully. In shock, her chest began to clench. "What's happening?"

She was thrown down again when she stumbled over the horse. The light that had once been escaping through the indentations in the box's sides now simmered, setting the space inside ablaze before cutting completely. It repeated over again, and now her mind span continuously.

Backing himself up to keep himself from being hurled forward, his eyes widened.

"I'm not sure." He said blatantly, before common senses kicked in. "They must be bringing us inside. He dropped us at a house, right?"

"I don't know!" She exclaimed in a hushed whisper, clearly aggravated in some kind of paranormal terror. "How do you expect me to know? I've seen just as much as you have."

That was a slight bend to the protruding truth actually. He hadn't quite caught sight of everything she had over the last few hours and he had heard enough to tell the tale of the stereotypical delinquent; hardly enough to impress the cowgirl during the time of her need. No, he knew barely anything at all - he had been sleeping...

Another vehement movement threw Woody over to the other side of the box. The breath oozed out of him like a choking bullet, leaving him feeling disoriented. They had been sat in utter stillness for the past few hours, wondering whether the donations box would ever be collected at all, simply just - waiting. Waiting like there was nothing left worth being patient for. Of course, Woody knew there always was something worth cherishing other than his family, and these things can be passed from one to another - just like that.

And he had to accept it - they all did. Otherwise, their reasons for being in the world at this moment in time would be completely and utterly pointless. They were made to be loved, not to wallow off and wander around at their own expenses.

He clambered out of his thoughts when everything suddenly went still again. Whoever was carrying the box must've attained a suitable balance. Woody felt relieved. He looked to Jessie, who was regaining her breath after the previous fright. Frankly, they were both astonished that they hadn't been heard. He couldn't see her directly in the light, but he could sense she was there all right, just as he could picture a timid Bullseye hunkering at her side.

"I don't." He said simply, feeling like he should answer. "You'd only know as much as I do."

Jessie, on the other hand, wasn't sure how to take his comment. She settled it by scoffing, bringing her knees to her chest and tilting to the side to rest on Bullseye. He made a soft sound in appreciation.

Swiftly deciding that it was best to cut the matter off like that, the Sheriff awkwardly settled himself by inhaling deeply. He knew that things won't settle this easily, and that Jessie would mope for days before finally coming to terms with everything to accept her Fate, so he decided that he wouldn't bring the subject up any time soon. Not unless he wanted the cold shoulder for a month - at the least - of course.

Meanwhile, Bullseye felt nostalgic. In a way, this situation reminded him of the day the three of them had lost it all - their loved owner, their family and their friends, and his thoughts were sent sprawling in the pessimistic past.

_Isolation, a dream untouched and a spirit, demoralized. Sunken mahogany orbs, broken by whispers unheard. Sentimentalizing, ringing over and over it goes. Round and round into hopes, archaic, and disillusions - mislead. Optimistic - well - the horse was not._

_"This is your fault!" Delicate tunes reaches, touching nothing. Pointed ears, hearing all but the inaudible, sunk lower. "How can you let this happen?"_

_Barely a whisper, a disoriented muffle was heard. Aware of how the speaker felt, she was not. Almost narcissistic, she was. Unbeknownst to her, losing battles could be fought. But all too late, it is now. They all were too late - for something, out of sight._

_A frail head looked left. A set of unfamiliar walls where the lost roamed, he saw perched. Nothing else suggested that sullen life, similar to them, cowered. Just as they were - afraid._

_Broken, a weakened voice dropped. "You're supposed to know what to do..." Emptiness floundered, wandering aimlessly. "-You should know..."_

_Bland as the morning day, his voice protested: "I don't."_

_Bitter words, the acceptant few knew, would not prosper. Light upon Night forms Dusk, where the world can stop. Water on the hearth created embers - the ones that drifted carelessly through the Darkened Skies. Wishes, he thought, wouldn't truly emend. Far from his reach; oh, they were so far._

_-Destined to be a star, oh they will - To no avail, they would meet._

_Eyes caught the embers of lost Putridity, wandering off pointlessly. Like the fall of Night, he felt like a belittled nuisance. Pulled triggers clicked silently. A last pin was unclipped, breaking all laws of Nature in the fraction of a single second. Finally, the misguided threw it._

_"What are we going to do?"_

_Defeated, he knew he was ignored, his answer blazed._

_Nothing. Silence settled. Hope was given forward as a bate, just as his own spirits dropped. A whimper and he turned his head. Those eyes were sad. She was facing him also. The horse felt extraneous._

_When the lie was told, he detected it immediately. Only through the tone of voice, he read her like a book. Harmless was a word or two, he had always thought. Now that he was wrong, his thoughts fell._

_"Oh... Don't worry, Bullseye." A gracious voice simmered, gently. She wasn't even nostalgic. "I know you miss them - I miss them too..." Trails were blindly led. "But, just don't worry. You have us..." Realization was met. Another verbal grenade shook._

_"We'll be all right - I promise."_

That had been years ago. And the promise still hadn't been met. Everything went still again for a moment, and Bullseye snapped out of his state to perk his head in the direction of Woody and Jessie. He couldn't see them, as they couldn't see him, but he knew they were there all right. Their quick and unsteady breaths revealed it all. They were apprehensive.

Abruptly, the harsh vibrations coursed through the three of them, leaving the faint sense of Isolation that had once vehemently hung at the four corners of the box disturbed. Jessie gasped slightly, feeling her chest tighten as her short, but silent breaths lodged in her throat.

However, an unfamiliar voice drew them all from their thoughts before panic could override them.

"Ah, I've been expecting this all week." The strange person mustered. It obviously belonged to a male, given the way the tone seemed to drag on. They became inanimate - just as they should be. Jessie briefly wondered whether his comment had been directed towards the box or not, as it seemed somewhat odd to her vaguely. But she hurled this away from her mind when she was torn from her thoughts again by an ear-aching sound. She recognized it almost instantly as being a joyous one that should always bring forward that zealous sense of surging optimism along with it. A slight tone she had at one point been desperate - longing, almost - to hear.

However, it was now something rather ambiguous to her. Like a burden cherished, but not wanted by any means or in any form.

The tape was pulled back and the lids of the box were lifted to allow the blazing lights of the day to partially blind the toys in shock. They were almost stung by the radiance, but were able to remain in character as they all caught sight of an elderly man with a bearded face. Shining hazel eyes stared down at them in amusement, almost in anticipation - like a child who was watching a toy, eagerly waiting to catch it off guard during a moment of vulnerability. Wild, greyed hair scattered across his face linked his moustache and his scraggly beard together, making him look almost comical when his gaping eyes were added to the illustration.

Jessie and Woody briefly wondered what type of man he must have been to want these toys at this day and age, pondering only briefly before the man spoke again. His voice shone with some type of strange enthusiasm only found within few. And, to some extent, it was almost like he had swallowed a tank of helium during a compulsively bad cold.

"Ah, yes." He said, light-heartedly. "My cousin told me about you. He thinks he's too old for rag dolls now. But no one's ever too old for a collection."

They felt bewildered, already after having only just met this man. He spoke to them….opaquely . If they had been able to pick out the write facts from what the man had just said, then they failed to spot the similarities between Lloyd and this old man here. In fact, Jessie struggled to even come to terms with the outstanding age different. However, these voices of uncertainty coursing through her head did not last long. The word 'collection' did not impress Woody or Bullseye, who were beginning to focus on the bigger picture. The Sheriff was now in dread.

The man above them suddenly shifted his gaze to focus on something straight ahead of them. Judging from the porch the toys could see supported by pillars several meters above them, they presumed that they must have been near the man's house. Presumably at the front door. For a few moments, Jessie felt herself settle. That was until, of course, he simply dropped the lids back down and continued heading towards the door.

Darkness floundered, and the cowgirl now felt very apprehensive but forced herself to remain calm otherwise. Revealing herself after so long of remaining quiet when facing the worst would be the worst mistake she could ever make. So she kept still, simply.

They had to brace themselves to keep from sprawling forward again, but they were more successful at this than they had been previously. The sound of a door moving against rusty hinges could be heard, so it became obvious enough that they were now indoors.

"God darnit!" The elderly man exclaimed. "I have to fix that damn door." He slammed the door behind him, unsuccessfully. Frustrated, he kicked his foot into it to shut it, still holding the box as he did so. The impact was uncanny.

The box was lowered again and the toys soon heard the sound of swift footsteps, fading gradually as they went along. The man, presumably, was out of hearing range for the moment.

Jessie looked at the Sheriff. "Who do you think he is?"

The Sheriff caught her gaze just as Bullseye turned his head. "I honestly have no idea."

And it was left at that, for the moment -


	4. The Dreaded Cycle

**_Chapter Four  
><em>**

Heaving flummoxed hunches entangling with her senses was one of the strangest feelings Jessie had ever had. Confirmation that the cycle was to be continued, and possibly never ending, was the worst news she could have been given. But yet given the circumstances, Jessie felt as though it was the most stable option. Nevertheless, it was dreaded.

During the process of being left aside for years to being given away to someone else to start the process all over again, it was the rejection that burned spirits the most.

They merely sat where they were for a while, simply waiting for the man to return. Time seemed irrelevant to them, and they had no means of keeping a reasonable perspective on it. If it hadn't been for the light that was still escaping through the box's handles, then it could've been another day. Afternoon was nearing dusk though, and they had no idea how long would pass before their new owner came back. What he had gone off to do, they had no idea. For all they knew, he could be off in town. Although, the possibility that he could've fallen up the stairs and broken his hip did seem like a reasonable theory to Bullseye. Especially when he came to recollect the time his old owner, Al, fell over and knocked all of the display cases over.

Despite the fact that only a few minutes had passed, they felt like they had been stuck in the box for hours. Each felt a dawning sense of fatigue settle upon them as they waited in silence. All the while, each felt apprehensive of what was to come.

Neglection was what they feared the most. Their new owner's intentions didn't seem very welcoming, especially to Jessie and Bullseye. Would he keep them locked up for years? Just like Al? They pondered over this for a while, but they couldn't arrive at any definite conclusion. It was just too far away from their reach. Maybe only by a few inches, but it definitely lay out of sight.

Silently, Bullseye shuffled closer towards Jessie and settled down next to her. Resting his head on her lap, he looked up at her with uncertain eyes. They were big and they were round and they tainted Jessie's senses like the burning embers of a freshly lit fire. She looked into those soft, feathery orbs and felt the stuffing in her chest sink.

Reaching out soothingly, she stroked his mane. Anything she said wouldn't have been much help to anyone at this moment in time, and she was quite aware of it. But a part of her wanted to comfort her fellow counterpart as much as she could - even if it did, theoretically, mean that she'd have to tell a lie. "Ain't much longer left to wait, Bullseye." She said, her voice uncertain. "Just a few more minutes an' then we'll be out of this darn, wretched box."

It was obvious that he wasn't fully certain of her words. His expression made that clearly valid. He hadn't been able to fully believe her for a while, much to his disappointment. It pained him, of course, to know that he could never rely on her fully given the fact that she always had the set intention to spare his feelings and spirits embedded into her morals. But it was blatantly obvious that he shouldn't. Not when Fate always had the tendency to prove her wrong, just when he was most optimistic.

Whinnying softly, he turned his head towards the Sheriff for reassurance. Woody, aware of the horse's precaution, nodded. For now, even if it wouldn't fool even the most narrow mind, he had least had to act partially oblivious. He obliged. Nuzzling his head into her lap, he closed his eyes and tried to calm his mind.

Following example, Woody and Jessie framed their thoughts to ease their senses.

...

Only a few minutes later, the man came back. Upon hearing his return, the toys returned to their previous positions and froze, completely inanimate. Their contradicting expressions stared up at the bearded man as he opened the box for a second time, and just this sight seemed enough to lighten up his senses - yet again.

"Those upturned politicians aggravate me greatly," He muttered to himself as he hand-picked the cowgirl and the Sheriff from the donations box. His expression kept faltering from excessively ecstatic to shockingly pessmistic and the toys briefly wondered whether he had difficulty deciphering between the two. "Raising the taxes on all us folk when we can barely even pay the rents off in the first place."

Placing Woody and Jessie down on the ground, he then picked up the horse with great effort. His movements were badly timed and clumsy as though he wasn't actually aware of the proper way to function his movements. He partially reminded the trio of the truly idiotic fool in a badly drawn comic, always messing up when the hero relies on them the most. The similarities between the standard illustrated idiot and the man were rather ironic actually when they really thought about it, but they tried not to delve into the subject matter too far.

"Just who do they all think they are? Kings?" He scoffed, his face upturning again into a solemn frown. "Honestly, I've had enough of their moaning already, along with the commissioners giving me a house by a church an' all. I would've thought better of it. That grave yard is always giving me the creeps."

That almost caught them off guard, but they remained expressionless nonetheless. Keeping to anticipated character.

_**-As always they should -**_

The man sighed, annoyed. "Well, at least I still have my big ol' dignity to keep me going."

The toys could argue with that claim. No effort would have to be made either, as it was clearly evident.

He placed Bullseye on the floor and examined them in interest. He was rather impressed with them, he had to say. "Why, I'm glad he kept you all in good conditions. You look fresh outta the box." If apprehension hadn't been so intoxicated at this very moment in time, Bullseye might've felt complimented. However, the three of them were still precautious and made mental notes to scan the room of all sharp objects in case their new owner tended to be the frequent sleep-walker.

Abruptly, a sharp noise tore vehemently through the room. The elderly figure leapt in response, almost scaring the wits out of the three toys, before coming to his senses an dstraightening himself out. "Good Jesus, that darn phone is loud." He crossed the room, disappearing from sight to obviously pick something up. Exasperated, he said: "I have to go to town? At this hour?" He hushed for a moment, clearly contemplating some drastic matter worth while before sighing and heading to the door.

Within moments, they heard the door slam. He was gone. Making sure that he wouldn't be coming back anytime soon. Jessie stood up awkwardly and gasped promptly. "Good, God. I swear if I have to deal with any more of this, I'm gonna tie him to the mail man."

"Jess-" The Sheriff interrupted, obviously concerned with her sudden and irrational behaviour.

"I can't deal with any of this no more!" She exclaimed. "I'm leaving. Any one who wants to join is welcome." And with that said, she steadied herself and stormed off, craddling herself as the world around her began to swell.

If her body could contain tears, then they'd be trailing down her cheeks...


	5. The Strangest Depths

**_Chapter Five_**

_He picked up his toys._

_"It's Bazooka Jane and her jet-propelled horse!" A child's foundering voice coursed. Tender bodies weakened by onsets of ages, filled. Joy ensued. Glee followed as strong outbursts of ecstasy overwhelmed them in tidal waves of flamboyant activity. "Woody, Buzz - that polecat Zurg has stolen my space cows!"_

_"Well bless the Snake in my boot - not again," A deepened voice awakened. Depths of the strangest kinds were abruptly tinged. Imagination knew no bounds. "That Zurg is always getting up to something."_

_Turning around, the game went. "I've got an idea, Sheriff." A heroic voice proclaimed. "But it'll be difficult, and I need your full support for it." Currents of something long since lived tugged at her heart, hunkering. She, for once, felt truly happy. "You too, Bazooka. We need folk like you and your noble steed to help us on our quests."_

_"Yeehaaw!" Childish ecstasy flourished avidly. "Here that, boy? We get to help the great Buzz Lightyear and the brave Sheriff Woody!" The words coursed like nectar, soothing all pecks of disillusioned confusion like melodies to the ear. The horse was filled with the same type of vainglory that drifted through his counterpart, and now he felt truly happy._

_"Come on, guys. I think he's gone way." Conclusion was met with a vibrant exclamation - one cherished. "Right this way. Buzz Lightyear to the rescue!"_

_The new barely knew the branded. But further on came the day of acceptance - just what everything should fall into -_

He took off after her. "Jess!" Now, he stood on his feet with a head reeling with stream-lined thoughts. He barely took one look at the horse sat beside him, scanning his form fiercely for any hint of wisdom or encouragement before following her trail like a bloodhound desperate to avenge a lost sin.

"Jess!" He called again, his voice barely a cry for attention this time. She didn't listen. So he did what any noble Sheriff would do such a position - he listened to word of logic. And his logic was telling him that she was acting completely and utterly bonkers.

He didn't take the time to observe the area around him: The cramped hall that was damp-ridden, dim and dusty; the way everything felt so compressed, almost like the space around him just refused to hold any possible habitants like they were toxic; the way everything just seemed to match up to many of the aspects the cowgirl loathed to the very bone perfectly. It was almost dark, and the area around him was very tight, even for a toy. A straight ticket to hell - in her perspective of course, but it wasn't paradise for him or Bullseye either. The complete opposite, it was.

Common sense made him shake his head in defeat. He knew it'd take an army and a half to convince Jessie that she was facing Life's best, and even then she'd be reluctant to relieve her stubborn nature. It wasn't like she could help it, obviously. As it was all in her nature. He shook these thoughts away also.

"Jess!" He could see her as she cradled herself against apprehension. Her arms were hugging her chest and she walked slowly, even after her drastic action only a few moments before. He saw that she was going all right - but she was still afraid under her reluctant temper. "Jessie. What are you doing?"

It suddenly dawned on her that he was determined. He wasn't going to let her leave without protest, and she abruptly became very aware of this as her breath stiffened. She stopped dead where she stood, fighting the urge to quiver helplessly in her polythene boots. If she'd had half a mind at that moment in time, she would've thought twice about what she was doing, thinking about what she was going to do and the consequences it would have on herself and the other two. Now, however, that small fraction of her mind was beginning to broaden. She didn't know how long it'd be before she started pondering over appropriate aspects seriously.

Sentimentalizing units of thoughts cascaded down upon her, and she was left with a reeling conscience. It wasn't rational to just leave like this, leaving her two best friends behind as she went and she was beginning to make sense of it now as she inhaled deeply, letting the fabrics of her chest expand as she tried to fill herself with tranquillity. Nonetheless, it was harder than she had presumed.

The Sheriff began closing the distance between them just as she began to say: "What does it look like I'm doing...Woody?" She stopped herself there, trying her best not to shake as she fought off that overpowering urge to curl up and whimper. "I don't want to go through with it again."

His expression faltered, but he eventually told himself that now wasn't the time. "Jess, you can't just do this. I mean - what if this guy gets upset?"

She merely turned her head around and looked at him.

"Fine, I get your point. But Jess, seriously, you can't just do this. He'll notice and then everything will be blown to smithereens." He was embedding the voice of reason onto her. And for a second - just for that one split fraction of a second - he thought it had worked, that he was getting through to her. But her Nature was suddenly unleashed and her expression hardened.

"I'm not gonna let him lock us up, just like Al." She said, determined. "And there ain't nothing you can say to stop me."

...

It was ironic actually that her chosen path, selected completely at random during a time of desperation, just happened to cut straight through the town's graveyard.

Woody had to admit that it was much more light-hearted out here with the Sky Orb's light shining bright and the birds singing enthusiastically in the day's dawning. The sight was far more appealing out here than it was in the house, surprisingly despite his location. He looked around to catch sight of the Cowgirl. He saw numerous tombstones, looking ancient where they all stood as though they hadn't been touched or visited in years, until he saw Jessie again in the distance.

He took off after her, again. However, something was different this time, he noticed. Something looked seriously wrong.

She was still, looking bewildered and terrified where she stood. So, out of plain curiosity, he walked over to her swiftly. The trip wasn't as agonizing as he thought it would have been, as she wasn't putting up any sort of a fight to keep distance from him. In fact, she didn't move at all - not even a blink.

"Jess?" He murmured, closing the space between them. He saw that she was staring glumly at a tombstone of some sort, her gaze dim as though she had just been given the worst possible news anyone could hear, and he thought this was odd. Though covered with dust, the tombstone glistened a blatant shade of scarlet red and looked just as archaic as the rest of them.

He sooned discovered why Jessie was so terrified.

Imprinted on the marble, these words stood out boldly - almost proud of the internal damage they caused.

_Emily Parker_

_Dearly beloved friend and mother_

_1951-2019_


	6. The Restful Silence

**_Chapter Six  
><em>**

_"Jessie the Yodelling Cowgirl, ready to save the critters in her barn!" A small girl exclaimed. Her high pitched voice slender, gleeful. A cystal like gaze stared back at the fair-haired girl, showing only half of the soaring optimism that now overwhelmed the flacid doll perched firmly within her grip. Comfort, of the strangest kind, ensued. "Nothing can get in the way of her."_

_Bad lost and good provailed. Like that, just like that, it went. Just as it always would._

_Trapped in a box for two years, the cowgirl was ecstatic. To her, it seemed like nothing could get in the way of those happy times. Nothing in the world could stop it, she told herself._

_Never once had she thought otherwise. Until she lost it all, obviously._

_Seconds later, she coughed up dust. The surroundings were different this time. They were strange. Everything was out of the ordinary, now that she had lost it all. Nothing had touched her in days other than the elements of age and depression, just like it had been for years. Isolation - she was in it. And not only was she sunken deep into its depths - she was stuck. Just, as it seemed, how she'd remain for eternity._

_Alone. With nothing else but her own, pessimistic thoughts._

_So she felt broken._

She felt torn. The bold words encrypted onto the scarlet shaded marble of the grave stone protruded greatly against the fine layering of dust that seemed just as much a part of the grave as the stone was itself, embedding into the core like a rusty blade. She simply couldn't believe it and, for a few moments, she didn't. It hit her hard, throwing each and every one of her senses off guard before she could even fully digest the name read on the stone.

And then, suddenly, it sunk in. All the years she had spent moarning her old owner now came crashing down on her like a tonne of cement, trapping her in place. She had spent so long. So long trying to forget her owner and the way she had abandoned her like she was worth nothing - though she knew otherwise, strongly. All at once, realization became obvious. And the grave of the dead woman before her was truth.

Woody, who had been watching her with caution all the while, saw this. Saw how overwrought she felt. And it became apparent to him that some things in the world were far worse than being given away or abandoned, like utter trash. A lot of the things in the world are much, much worse than that, despite how it may seem. He stared blatantly at the truth now; Death was a heck of a lot worse. It saddened him simply to gaze upon its effects.

Though he knew not of her old owner's last name, Woody knew who it was that lay two meters below the ground, rotting away in the tranquillity of eerie silence. And for the second time in his life, the first being the time Jessie had revealed to him the painful ailments of her past that had all but eased the Sheriff in his place, he was plain and simply speechless. He had no idea of what to say, or even a clue on what he should do. The look perched firmly on her face was information enough to tell him that nothing he could say would make any difference whatsoever.

He brought back his gaze to look at her, his eyes filled with something close to sadness itself. That image burned in his mind, writhing endlessly at the core of his thoughts. Threatening to become something else - a different name entirely, just as he knew lay somewhere on marble in Earth - he struggled against himself. One more look at her, the way those emerald orbs seemed to falter somewhere between melancholy and complete shock, and his inner will broke down completely.

He pictured the name on the grave. That ivory grave glistening dimly against the dusk's lowering sun. Its counterpart - the dust - thickly covered the stone decorated with half-hearted horse shoe engravings around its rim. Replicating the look his wife knew he'd liked.

Woody could picture a sobbing mother, standing at the grave of her late husband. Lost at battle, the honourable way to go. Yet, the blow didn't seem sweet - it was vile and sour, like somebody had chucked it up from their insides. For the good of the country, some would say. But what no one thought of was the battle that went on within the household, within the minds... It was almost pure obliviousness, for they did not understand. They wouldn't, the mother had told herself, until they felt the pain themselves.

Below the mother a small child stood, staring blankly. It was just as much of a shock to him as it was to the woman who hunkered above, but this type of pain couldn't truly be conceived by a child of that age. Heaven had awarded him for his services to the country, he had been told by many. And now he was finally at peace.

Complete and utter trash.

He stood there, his eyes threatening to sting with something close to despair. In his hands, he held the only form of comfort he still had left; his father's old doll that had been handed down to him shortly before he had left the country. The child missed his Daddy, and wished he had been able to wish him luck and say the simple words 'I Love You, Daddy' before he had left to beat the bad men in the war. Then, maybe, he'd be able to recall the last time he had heard his Daddy talk nice to him. But he couldn't, as his Daddy was the nicest man he had ever known.

The boy clutched the doll tighter, bending down to whisper this as a gentle tear trickled down his cheek: "I love you, Woody. Don't ever leave me."

Andy Davis read the words on the gravestone again.

_Andrew Davis_

_A great serviceman and a loving family member_

_1952-1992_

Woody snapped out of his thoughts. He lifted his head towards Jessie again and forced himself to offer guidance. "Jess-" He whispered affectionately, tugging all of his weight forward to stand at her side. She didn't move. "I'm sorry..."

For a moment or two, Woody wondered whether Jessie had actually comprehended what he had said. That was, until she abruptly turned around and buried her face in his shoulder, clearly distraught. Woody, slightly caught off guard, spent a few minutes drawing himself back to his senses. He wrapped his arms around her, moving slightly so that she was facing away from the gravestone. It was perfectly within his line of sight.

They remained like this for a few moments, with Woody softly stroking her hair as she struggled to contain herself. However, they were both caught off guard when they heard a voice behind them.

"Hello?" They froze where they stood, bewildered completely. "Are you of my kind?"


	7. The End of the World

_**Chapter Seven**_

A moment later and the two of them were left feeling overwhelmed with something close to discountenance. Both wide eyed in shock, they released their embrace around each other and stepped away. They tried to recollect the source of the voice they had just heard, but it seemed to have been lost in their dwelling thoughts.

Jessie looked over at the Sheriff again, only to come across a look that matched hers perfectly. He was just as bewildered as she was. They both could swear they had heard something.

"Did you - ?" Jessie tried to ask, but she only cut herself off when she saw that he was about to speak up. So, that settled things then. She wasn't going crazy.

"Yeah," He clarified, risking one more look at her before directing his gaze elsewhere. He couldn't bear to stand spotting the grief he knew still cowered behind those emeralds. "I heard it."

There was absolutely nothing around them. All they could see were the grave stones protruding from the earth at intervals and the way light seemed to be a dismissed element around these parts. A ghastly sight, but they gave it no second thought. They had definitely heard something. If only...

"Hello?"

Right. They had definitely heard something that time around. Plush. The voice was plush; sounding like it belonged to a small, frail doll. Woody's eyes were cast to his side, just right of Emily's gravestone. The voice itself was indecipherable, and he hadn't been able to tell whether it had belonged to a male or a female. But he didn't ponder over this for long.

Jessie followed his eyes, leading her to the spot right beside the scarlet marble. Retaining the urge to let the despair overwhelm her yet again, she inhaled deeply and focused. Woody's gaze led her to where a small, ragged doll stood, its fibres decades old from the looks of it. Instinctively, she stepped closer to the Sheriff.

The two stood there, stunned in awkward silence. Both were querying what appropriate actions should be taken, but came to no definite conclusion in their minds.

"Hello?" The doll asked again, a few yarn pieces of golden hair falling before its bobbing eyes, shining pitch black. From the slender voice, its form showed the vague complexities of a woman's body. Though this only made one thing clear within the mind of the Sheriff: It wasn't a lost child. Within Jessie's eyes, however, the conclusion wasn't as brief. She wondered if they had been followed here, but somehow the idea seemed far-fetched. If anything, it must've been a matter of pure coincidence. The rag doll took a step towards them and Woody and Jessie weren't sure now as to whether they should be apprehensive, or just cautious. "Are you lost, too?"

The two Western toys risked a glance at each other, both meeting uncertain gazes. Jessie had no clue who on Earth that other rag doll was and neither did the Sheriff, so they found this situation rather peculiar. However, Woody came to realize just slightly before Jessie, they hadn't a clue of why this was so. They have met new forms of their kind plenty of times before, and took in the information without really giving it a second thought. Heck, Jessie had leapt on the Sheriff during their first meeting and yet Woody had only seen the moment as a mildly discomforting act which had only discreetly invaded his personal space and went far beyond the barriers he should ever be able to tolerate. But this...this was just plain and straight out-of-the-ordinary.

Damnit. They couldn't go silently.

"Yeah..." Jessie spoke, snaking her hand behind Woody and thrashing it against Woody's back hard. Vehemently, she hushed a whisper: "Say something!"

He seemed to have acknowledged her half-hearted threat. "Oh, yes... But we were just leaving-"

"It must be hard to lose an owner in that way." The doll said quietly, looking directly at Jessie. The Cowgirl's eyes parted in shock, barely even able to believe what she had just been told.

"You -" Jessie had to swallow what was lodged deep within her throat. "You know?"

"Your expression reveals everything, ma'am." She said, taking another step forward. From this angle, Jessie could see that this toy looked exactly like one of the plush teddies Emily used to own as a child. A large head and a flexible body stitched together by dark brown, archaic fabrics. Even the yarn hair seemed worn, though Emily's doll had held turquoise tint to it. It must've been at least seventy years old, almost the same age as Jessie herself, but yet it looked as though only forty had taken their toll on her. "And I heard the cowboy doll speak to you only a minute ago. Are you truly lost?"

There was less hesitation this time. "No, not entirely. We - well, we're just wandering."

"But we're heading back now-" Woody interjected, his instincts going haywire. "Weren't we, Jess?"

Jessie held up her hand. She was intrigued by this doll, and she wasn't about to go yet. Something had to take her mind off of the grief, and this strange figure was the closest abnormality within her reach. "Just wait a sec, Woody," She said, turning her attention into obsession within the matter of a few moments. "Are you lost?"

The Plush figure looked down at the ground, clearly dwelling on something unbeknownst to her. From the looks of it, she hadn't spoken to any other life form in days. "Yes. I've been lost for many years now."

"What happened?"

Woody wasn't sure whether he wanted to go through with this conversation, but Jessie seemed determined to lure the information out of her. He couldn't blame her really, when he came to think about it. But she could've pulled herself together a bit more.

"I was thrown away, but I managed to escape before the garbage truck arrived." Flash backs of the past flooded the minds of Woody and Jessie, threatening to overpower their thoughts. The incinerator protruded out the most, flashing malevolently. The fire became the core of their comprehension only briefly, but they forced it from their heads with great effort eventually. "Then I ran away and I've been running away ever since. I don't even know which state I'm in anymore. The people depend on too much slang now compared to older days."

Jessie, who had already been through five owners by this point, could sympathise with her, but Woody's morals were still ambiguous. They didn't even know her name yet.

However, that was when something clicked in Jessie's mind.

"You're one of those Anne-Louise rag dolls, aren't you?" Jessie asked, finding evidence in her mind to trust her theory. The Anne-Louise toy lifted her head, nodding emphatically.

"Why, yes - I am."

"My old owner, Emily..." She almost trailed off into deep thought. "She had one like you once."

Deep silence settled, hanging between them all like a barrier between contradicting countries. But, before it morphed into Second Nature, it was broken.

"Don't you wish we could control all of this?"

"What do you mean?" Jessie asked, delving deeper into the subject than originally intended.

"Well, humans' are always controlling the lives of those like us. They create us, and then they throw us away. Like we never matter."

Woody took a step away.

"They're always creating things and then they decide that they don't want to keep them." Anne-Louise continued on, definitely catching Jessie's attention. "They're creating things that can develop feelings and tendency to like aspects towards Life, but then they decide what goes where like we can't even feel anything. But we matter, somewhere along the line. As we can make children happy before they outgrow us."

Jessie was caught in some odd trance. Then, she felt Woody's eyes settle on her and she snapped back to reality. Confusion ensued. "What are you suggesting?"

"Well, don't you wish that we were one of them, even if only for a day? So that we could control our own fates?" She asked, and Woody now felt very precautious. "I've always wondered what it'd be like. Then we wouldn't have to hide anymore."

The tension building up within Woody was now beginning to overflow. "Right, Jess. I really think we ought to go."

Anne-Louise, sensing a missing presence, cocked her head to the side. A sudden thought had obviously occurred to her "Is it only you two here? Or are there others like you?" She brought up something within Woody's mind that made his priorities veer off the edge. Rational sense left his body completely, just as intended.

"Bullseye!" He called, noting that they had left him behind. "He's not with us!"

"Do you need to find him?"

"Yes..." Then, just like that, his boots led him away, towards the house. Jessie watched him leave, though only stared in his direction for a moment before looking at Anne-Louise again. "Will Bullseye be all right?"

She had no idea why she had asked her that, but it had seemed like instinct to her. Like something powerful was leading her mind in the right direction.

"Yes. He should be fine." Anne-Louise claimed, eyeing the cowgirl out of curiosity. "Does it hurt?"

Jessie didn't have to ask. "Like the Tarnations were against me for tooth and hoof." And she was right. It was like her joints had been ripped, dangling from her limbs by only the thinnest threat. Pure and simple agony. Nothing less, but a heck of a lot more.

"Do you want it to stop?" Jessie felt entranced, like every word this doll spoke was one of honest truth. It was odd, because she felt like she could stand by the side of the one she had just met for any price. Like Anne-Louise was one of her closest friends. Someone she could depend on during times of vulnerable need. Someone she could always relate to no matter how silly her fears and anxieties could be. Like she trusted her with her own heart.

Jessie nodded, simply. And that was that. It was clear to her now. She didn't want to be like this anymore. "Yes."

"Then follow me."

And then it was final. She'd follow Anne-Louise to the end of the world.


	8. The Truth of the Lie

_Sombre eyes sought him in thought. Looking to his left, he only met a pessimistic expression. Like him, she was precautious. "I'm scared, Woody."_

_Every right to be apprehensive, she had._ _But hand it to her directly, he didn't want to do. The rumour had been spreading around the room for almost a week now, catching like fire and as contaminating as tainted venom. The honest truth, he could not bring himself to muster. _

_So he simply made the best he could out of the situation. A lie, as blatant as the truth, he told. It was one of the worst mistakes he could've made, little did he know._

_"Don't worry about it, Bo." A gentle tone, softer than the velvet tassles that encased the silent heart, soothed._

_"Why shouldn't I?" The blow that hit him was deadly. He could sense the mortality in her voice in the air, just like that. She would be dead inside, sooner or later. But he wasn't going to let her worry about it, of course. Lies were always best served under confusion. "We both know it's going to happen, and he could get rid of any one of us."_

_"He won't-"_

_"But what if he does?" _

_"I won't let that happen." And that was that. Convinced, oh he most certainly was. But she wasn't._

_"But it'll happen sooner or later," A porcelian voice spoke. "What will happen to us if he splits us apart?"_

_"I'm not going to let that happen, Bo."_

_"But that's besides the point!" A profound exclaimation announced, and the Sheriff was silenced in deep shock. What if it did happen? An answer, did he have? A clue. He had no freaking idea._

_"W-well, I don't know."_

_"Please?" She asked, helpless. "It could happen to any of us. To me, to Buzz, to Jessie, or any of the others. It's happened before, Woody, and it wasn't any good. What would you do if it happened again?"_

_A soft formed bucked lower, right beside her ear. "I wouldn't let that happen to you, Bo. Don't you worry. I'll make sure of it."_

_And that was that. Be sure of it, oh he would._

_..._

_Now he stood by the window, gazing out. She was stood at the far table, and she was being eyed. He touched the window, hands trailing down the glassly surface in defeat._

_He felt something take his side. _

_Buzz Lightyear... He'd know what to do. A hand took his shoulder._

_"I'm sorry, Woody."_

_And then that was that._

Woody shook his head, his senses running a mile an hour. He was inside now, just lost in his own thoughts. Now, he saw the horse he had been looking for, and he was left frankly shocked.

He had been sat there the whole time, just quivering slightly. Why hadn't he followed them?

Woody walked closer, eyeing Bullseye as he approached. All the while, his mind was wandering furiously. He knew he shouldn't have left Jessie alone like that, but the fact that Bullseye had been on his own had seemed to influence his morals to a great extent, unbeknownst to him. It was completely out of his comprehension.

"Bullseye?" He asked, his voice soft. His tone was questioning, but the horse didn't fret any further. The Sheriff merely watched as Bullseye lifted his head to face him, his delicate orbs piercing into Woody unconsciously. Something must've been wrong, Woody thought. There is no way on this Earth that he'd stay here, completely in isolation, if both he and Jessie walked from his sight. He'd have a metaphorical heart attack, most likely, under situation like this. But, nonetheless, he hadn't moved one bit. He was still exactly where their new owner had left them. And Jessie and Anne-Louise were outside, completely out of his sight and away from his watch.

And he just made one of the worst mistakes he could've made.

"Bullseye!" His tone suddenly rose, startling the whimpering horse slightly. "I've left her out there!"

How on Earth could he have been so stupid? He had almost been entranced, the damn idiot. And he had blindly gone inside without dragging her along with him, to his surprise. It was beyond him, that he had missed that all-so tiny aspect of the situation. He had left her outside with the doll he didn't trust in the slightest.

But there was nothing he could do about it now. For, by the time he turned around, he heard the man's voice.

"Yeah, okay, sir." They heard him say, almost in exasperation. "I'll meet you there tomorrow. Prompt, of course."

They dropped to the floor, completely lifeless.

And, without Jessie there, Woody could only hope for the best.

_"I am very sorry for your loss, Miss Jane." A dark tone floundered, shattering her senses completely. Quivering, dreaded impulses overwhelmed her._

_"No..." Weakening logic kept her mind steady, though the urges there were appealing. A source of communication dropped, as she did, slowly falling. Motionless, shocked despair coursed through her nerves. Deadly, but all so subtle._

_This, she couldn't believe. Cradling herself, she hung on desperately._

_"No, no, no, no, no, no, no-" The chant was endless. Her head shook as drops of melencholy threatened their release. Plausible and frankly possible, the worst had been made. The unheard was made audible, and now her tears were free. _

_He had told her. Every. Damn. Phone. Call. Survive, oh how he would, he had claimed. Stronger than Satan, of course he was. The toughest thing out there, heck he was. He'd survive five months, without a single damn hassle. In and out. And out, he had told her, he would stay when the chance arrived. All in good time, he had said._

_A damn liar, he was. She had fallen for it, that god-damn stupid girl. The lies that came off his tongue, she had believed._

_And now she sat there, defeated. Her sadness clambered out of her system._

_Despair crashed down -_

...

It was idiotic, but she still woke up in fright. A pillow clutched in hand firmly, like she had been clinging on for Dear Life. She met the vague light of her bedroom first of all, panting to regain her breath. If the room were anymore claustrophic, then she would've had a heart attack upon waking.

It was all strange.

When she finally picked up her senses again after a long wander, _s_he coughed up that painful lump in her throat. Her airways had been compressed during her sleep, she had realized, but that wasn't anything to fret about due to the fact that she never slept in the most comfortable positions. What was more of a worry to her though, was what she realized only a moment later_. Damnit._ She had been crying again in her sleep. The tears were sliding down her cheeks, and she felt oddly out of place. They felt different from the last collection of tears she had cried. They felt heavier, like it was the first time she had ever let out her melancholy in such a way.

She grasped her bedside cabinet, her hand fumblign aimlessly against the ragged rims of the surface. Her hands shaking, she accidentally thrust them agaisnt the sharp edge, cutting the palm of her hand almost instinctively.

The pain was blinding, and odd. She cursed and opened her eyes, holding her hand up within her line of sight. She gasped when she spotted the first trickles of blood oozing from the small wound. It astonished her, actually. Like she had never seen such a sight.

The stupid girl. She shook her head and cleared her thoughts, thinking she was acting idiotic for waking up in such a way. Honestly, she had to grow up at times.

But everything around her felt so weird - like she was completely out of place.

That was until, unsurprisingly, someone shouted out her name.


	9. The Countless Years

_"Jessie!" He snapped, his tone seething her conscience with every drop of will-power he had left. "Don't. You. Even. Try." A threat he sent, not a warning. Continue on until she had lost everything left of what she has, she simply couldn't. Times had beaten the hell out of them lately, but they needed to remain strong not only for themselves, but for their new owner and the strong intentions of their last. Whatever Bonnie Anderson had wanted to make out of them, they should fulfil. But then here the distraught was, trying to get back to the one she had lost._

_**-If only that would ever work-** He thought. A right to think this way, he certainly had. He had been through years of selfless torture and depression because of the grief he had felt in his heart. And it had destroyed him, from the inside out ripening internally before his outer surface was cracked under the nerve-racking pressure. The pain could've been avoided, he had realized, eventually, if he'd had sense enough to dwell in the worst of the pain only briefly before scrapping it and moving on. It would've been easier that way. A heck of a lot more._

_To see her submerged under the very same pain, he didn't want in the slightest. He had been stupid, diving into all of that when he had the lives of others to focus on keeping up to manageable standards. He had been a complete and utter idiot, yet the truth had blinded him from gazing anywhere beyond the charades he had blanked his mind with. Missed her terribly, he had done so and that had been that. And he did not want to watch while Jessie went through the same mental abuse he had put himself through all those years ago, for it was just not fair. It wouldn't be honest on either of them, and Woody knew it'd scar Bullseye to watch her again, helpless and holding a deflate spirit. The horse cared for her too much to watch her do that to herself, over something she could move on from just as he had been forced to move on from his past with no units of expression to speak out with._

_Find a way to convince her to calm herself down; he had to for the sake of them all. As always, though, things were easier said than done._

_Expression firm and overwrought, she turned around on him. "What, Woody? Try what?"_

_Despite how much it tore him apart, he had to narrow down his perspective. Face it all again and lose everything else she had left, she didn't want to do. She had loved him, with all the heart she'd had left after it'd been handed down to her by the mere memory of the owner who had completely destroyed her those years before. And now she was facing the fate of going through it all again: Having her heart torn and desires broken, before having them handed down to her when she was at melding point. He knew she didn't want to go through with it again, and neither did he. But he didn't want to think about this, whatsoever. Duties had been allocated to them, and as toys their only rights was to fill them - or get replaced; it was all apart of Nature._

_Exasperated, he threw his hands in the air gesturing wildly. "This!"_

_Only one word had been said on his part, but a sense of clairvoyance passed through them at that point and the cowgirl now became fatefully aware of his intentions. "Well we can't stay here!"_

_She leant back against the internal surroundings of the bag they had been placed in by the owner they had just been bought by, waiting for his expected exclamation forming an answer to it in her head. Obviously, he said exactly what she thought he'd say and she wasn't the faintest bit surprised. "Jessie, you know we have to. Bonnie wanted us to follow this path and she can't just turn our backs on it!"_

_"She sold us, Woody!" She proclaimed, aware that the owner of the bag was nowhere within hearing range. "She won't know who we're going to or where we're going to end up at."_

_A point, she had within her grasp. And Woody could see it, clearly. It took every single ounce of his will-power to not just give up and let her proceed with her escape. He couldn't. "But she wanted to hand us on to a new owner, and we have to respect that."_

_"She took us away from all of our friends!"_

_"We're going to have to face it, Jessie," He said, his metaphorical heart blazing in scorching trepidation. He didn't want to believe that they had been given away, but knew mentally that they had no other choice but to grin and bear it. "Think of everyone else who has been taken away from our group and consider how they felt!" His tone was harsh, and it almost made her quiver in apprehension, but it didn't fail to bring the following names into mind: R.C, Etch, Wheezy and most importantly from Woody's point of view, Bo._

_Bo... Woody had lost a lot the day she'd been taken away from him, and he had faced so much pain. And yet he hadn't stopped it, though he must've had the opportunity to. Sometimes situations just had to be faced and dealt with instead of tucked away firmly into boxes of fear and shame for 'oh those' countless years. And then she realized there were just some things she had to face, no matter how much it broke her heart to do so._

_"But I'll miss him..." She murmured merely, her voice falling apart into the echo that surrounded her soul, tugging fiercely. She's truly and completely lost him now. And this was truth she didn't want to face._

_Much to say, he couldn't find. He wanted to sooth her, to tell her that everything would be all right but instead Bullseye's whimper brought him back to his logic. Things wouldn't - and he didn't want to lie to her face._

_As she reached to the horse and petted his nuzzle gently, Woody said: "I'm sorry, Jessie..."_

_And then her head sunk lower._

Woody was dragged forcefully back to reality when the old man picked him up from the floor. From this angle Woody had a close up of his face with its gleaming expression shining bright and vivid and for a moment, the Sheriff felt slightly disturbed.

"Well, let's see then," He murmured with his eyes trailing up as if he were searching for that extensive spark in his head. It almost looked like he was trying to come up with an idea of some sort as he dwelled on his thoughts, but Woody severely doubted it. But his expression sharpened when something ticked in his head, and he smirked in response to this. "Ah! I've got it." His gaze flickered from Bullseye to Woody continuously and both lifeless forms became uncertain of themselves. "I know where to put ya."

Something definitely didn't feel like up-to-notch secure, but they couldn't protest as the man rose to his feet carrying Woody and Bullseye with him.

"Oh, I just know how much you two would love to be free."

And then the conclusion was final, printed out in bold letters right in front of them: They definitely had something to fear...

()()()()

She was getting completely ahead of herself, as she was aware. The voice she had heard calling her name had almost made her jump out of her skin as she clutched her cut hand like a complete lunatic. It was only her Uncle and legal guardian, a Mr. Jones, who had raised her from childhood. She had nothing to fear, unlike others.

Breathing deeply to calm herself down, she headed to the door and opened it with a surprising amount of ease. What on... Oh, just screw it, she thought. She didn't have time or patience enough to be dealing with things like this, though she didn't have to start work yet for another hour and a half. She sought down the voice she was listening out for into the kitchen and then straightened herself out slightly, even in her nightgown.

He was making breakfast, unusually. In fact she was rather intrigued by the fact that she hadn't detected the scent of fried bacon and scrambled eggs sooner, but she tried not to ponder over this for too long. His back was towards her at the stove, and she cleared her throat to attract his attention.

"Um...did you shout me, Uncle?" He jumped around at that, completely startled out of his own wits. Only then did she realize that he had been shaking pepper into the eggs, for he'd accidentally sent the pepper shaker flying in the air sending the particles onto his face, which isn't entirely pleasant with nostrils as big as his.

Jessie's eyes went wide in shock. "Oh, I'm sorry, Uncle." She said, rushing to his side to pick up the shaker he had dropped. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

He held his hands up in protest, waving her comment away. From the way he was squinting, she also guessed that he had pepper in his eyes. How he had thrown the shaker in such a way, she had no utter clue. "It's all right, dear. I'm fine... Just a minor - achoo!" Sneezing, he rubbed his coloured nose, groaning as his eyes started to water.

Feeling quite indecisive, Jessie pulled him up by the shoulders and led him to the kitchen table where she settled him down on the chair. She ignored the pain in her hands for now, but when she looked at it she saw that the wound was no bigger than a paper cut. It had felt like a blade had been sliced through her skin, ironically. "You just sit here," She suggested, calmly. "And I'll finish off the breakfast."

She made her way to the stove and worked with the two pans, all the while thinking that she knew nothing about the food she was prepared. When she finished she brought out two plates from the cupboard and sectioned the food onto the plates. It was all common instinct, as she heard not a thought as her body was set onto auto-pilot. Then, finishing off the preparation, she carried the plates and cutlery to the table and settled them down and sat on the available chair.

"Are you feeling any better?" She asked, noting that he was still rubbing his eyes frantically. At his age, he still had the tendency to frantically exaggerate every small detail, this situation being no exception. She felt slightly relieved when he nodded.

"Yes dear, just a small problem. But nothing that hasn't already been fixed before." Jessie smiled. "Anyhow, how are you? I heard you talking out in your sleep last night."

Her heart froze in its tracks. She felt like she was wandering off into foreign territory thinking about the bad dreams she always had, but she felt like she should answer the question, just in case.

"Oh it was nothing..." She murmured, before instinct added: "Just a nightmare-"

"A nightmare?"

Her eyes widened slightly and she took the first bite of her food to procrastinate a little longer. The taste of it clung to her taste buds firmly, like she had never tasted it before, and she savoured the thick taste of the meat as she felt her thoughts stop dead in their tracks...

A/N ...Coming from a vegetarian who's never liked the taste of bacon, LOL.

Feel free to send a review or a suggestion if you want. :-)

~x~FanFicAddict02


	10. Out of Place

_**Chapter Ten**_

The next thing that happened to Woody seemed completely out of the ordinary. The man walked from the room holding both Woody and Bullseye within his embrace, and then everything the Sheriff knew just _jumped._ No - nothing jumped, it seemed for an obstacle that can be leapt had to exist in the first place. It was more technical and bewildering than that. _Something_ had been cut out.

Just like that, and the world he knew fell apart right before his eyes in lumbering patches of falling darkness encasing his soul completely. One moment, he saw the interior design of the old man's front hallway and then the next thing Woody knew, he was sat on a window-sill looking through the glass at the waking of a new day. Which was most coincidentally strange. The day had been dying just a moment before, falling into the tranquil silence that would last until the early hours of any given morning. But now it was waking - very much alive.

He didn't know what had happened to him, and for the life of him he wasn't sure whether he wanted to find out. But something had changed in everything then, and he began to sense the world changing around him as he watched the desolate street outside and its path of vague mortality. It was exactly the same street as before, Woody eventually realized, and he could sense the graveyard behind the house sending them secret messages of the subtle. But yet, absolutely everything about this place seemed to have changed. Like - oh, Woody couldn't think of anything to pinpoint his thoughts exactly. They were still there, though, just meandering through his subconscious with no real aim. No point towards anything, really, which reminded him of a certain thought: Why were they here again...?

Gasping in outright shock, the Sheriff looked up and around towards Bullseye who was sat beside him, the same confusion evident in his pondering expression as was in his. The fading eve they had just been facing had now transformed into the waking day right before them, and within the matter of a few mere seconds. Just like that - and the world around them had changed, completely.

"Bullseye?" He asked slowly, testing that he still had use of all of his senses. When he realized that he hadn't lost anything during the strange event that had just occured, Woody continued cautiously. Though he hadn't been altered in any out-of-the-ordinary ways, nothing meant that Bullseye hadn't taken the toll instead. "Do you have any idea of what just happened?"

The careful gaze the Sheriff examined the toy horse with was full of meaning and out of curiousity, the stare wandered across the rag toy for quite some time before the intense look was returned. It was concluded now: Woody wasn't imagining any of this, and Bullseye was still the Bullseye Woody knew very well. But then, if he was here, then where was the cowgirl? Was she still with the doll he had seen before?

Senses charging forward to the sense of realization his subconscious had been ignoring purposefully, Woody's eyes broadened instantaneously. The thought sent him back to only a few minutes before, in his perspective. She had been with that doll when Woody had darted to retrieve Bullseye, but yet she hadn't followed them which only brought into the spotlight one aspect: He had left her out there on her own, with the one toy he'd had every reason to be suspicious about.

Something had happened to them. And Jessie wasn't here. He wasn't sure whether she'd be safe or in complete hell, and this fact in itself was enough to turn his nerves right around. Slightly shocked when Bullseye neighed at him asking a question that had been bothering the two of them, Woody quickly lifted his gaze.

"I have no idea where she is, Bullseye," He told him, honestly. For a quick second a flash of melancholy overcame the horse's features and then the Sheriff felt disappointed with himself. He felt absolutely worthless, especially when he looked outside again and recalled how much had changed. Shaking the thoughts from his head, he looked around the room quickly. It was a bedroom of some sort, one that looked like it belonged to a very plain, slightly unorganised person. A single unmade bed was perched against the far wall holding vibrant mauve and cornsilk coloured sheets on a bare wooden frame. Beside the bed stood a pale, obviously homemade, wooden cabinet with rough looking jagged edges. Towards the left of this approximately two to three meters away, was an ordinary cupboard like any other one Woody had ever seen. Apart from this, the room was very concise and dull, like whoever inhabited such a place was an empty person focusing more on gaining intellectual aspects in life rather than just living in itself. "But something tells me she isn't in the house."

_Perhaps this room belongs to the old man? _Woody thought, merely. It wouldn't surprise him if it did, since their new owner didn't seem to have much of a life to live. But he couldn't leave it there. Whoever lived here had something to explain. _But how did we end up here?_

That question wasn't answered. As, before he could ponder over the matter any further, they heard footsteps from outside of the room. Instinct overriding their core as only primary Nature, Bullseye and Woody froze in place completely inanimate. Only a few seconds later the door to the right of the toys opened and a tall human walked through. But it wasn't what they had expected. It wasn't the old man with his scruffy white hair, flabby figure and his inept enthusiasm testing the patience of the Sheriff. No - it was someone completely different. And, judging from how Bullseye flinched beside him in anticipation, Woody reckoned it was someone who shouldn't be here.

Making sure that his next action wouldn't be noticed from the person who had just entered the room, Woody flitted his eyes to Bullseye, desperately whispering under his breath: "Stay still! You'll get us caught." But the horse still seemed full of the reckless energy Woody was dreading. If the horse acted up too much, then they'd be caught red-handed without a doubt. Bullseye had his gaze fixed towards the person who had just entered the room, his tail wagging from side to side in irregular irritation. It wasn't normal in him to do it this way, right in front of a human being, even if he was excited. And Woody very well knew it was dangerous. "Bullseye, what are you doing?" He asked impatiently, but the horse would have nothing on it. Nodding his head towards the person who had just entered the room, Woody had no choice but to follow the horse's longful gaze.

And then he saw the person for the first time.

But, again, it wasn't the man. Instead, the person was a woman in striped yellow and crimson flannel pyjamas. She looked to be around twenty with a boundless expression that caught the Sheriff's eyes agape in eventful shock. Her face suggested that she still held the stubborn streak of a child within her, but her curves all held in exactly the right places told him otherwise.

But it wasn't her features or the woman herself that bothered Bullseye, it was her brilliant emerald eyes. And the splendid scarlet locks of her hair holding much life within them...


	11. The Redhead and Jessie

_**Chapter Eleven**_

To say that he couldn't believe his eyes would be an understatement. He felt more bewildered than that, and the confusion boiled inside him into utter disbelief as he leant forward to ingest the sight of the redhead. Bullseye had obviously picked out that something was out of the norm a few good moments before the Sheriff had picked it up, but even then he'd had to rely on the horse's instincts to patch the picture together in the back of his mind. It was completely impossible, but yet the young woman before him holding much brilliance in her looks spoke for itself. And the word was contradicting.

_But that's impossible._ In a way, it most definitely was and if he hadn't had the evidence perched right before his eyes then he wouldn't have believed it.

"But it can't be," The Sheriff proclaimed in a hushed whisper turning towards the horse again. "She's outside."

_Or so she had been before_, he thought. _And we all know what 'thought' did._

He shook his head, but it became obvious within the next few moments that he hadn't even fazed Bullseye with what he'd just said. Logic was taking into account all the handy-work the fates had given him to piece together. His mind started to wander as he pondered over his thoughts. Firstly, the way Bullseye was reacting only occurred if he were excited or anxious about something, and often the line between these two common emotions could be a very thin one he could easily erase.

No - it just couldn't be so. Jessie was one of them, and always would be. The fact that he could spot some common features on this young woman and the female collectible had to be a coincidence, the Sheriff reckoned. Perhaps the girl was only wearing contacts and had dyed her hair that colour? That was the only way to explain why this woman was a spitting image of his Jessie -

_His Jessie...?_ His thoughts went haywire at that, and he had no control over them. She wasn't his, damn it, she was independant and always would be. Why he had even been thinking like that when he was trying to make sense of the situation, he had no idea. It was just absolutely bizarre, which led him on towards another set of thoughts.

Secondly, he couldn't deny the fact that they looked alike, even if he were able to come up with a dozen different theories as to why she was. And when he pieced the two together...the evidence was controversial.

"Bullseye!"

No answer.

"Bullseye!"

He still didn't receive an answer. The horse from the looks of it was too absorbed in by whoever it was he was gaping at. They had to settle down quickly, otherwise she could just turn her head to the side and catch them in the act. But then, would that be a good progression of the situation? Woody didn't want to think about it.

Beaten, he followed Bullseye's gaze to the redhead and settled himself back against the glass gently. He seemed to deflate like a strained balloon as he sighed. Perhaps she was nothing like the Jessie he knew? He'd seen many people before who looked alike but had contradicting personalities, so maybe this was just one of those times?

"God darnit!" She drawled in frustration as she reached her bed.

_Or not_.

Plopping herself down on it to look at the ceiling, she let out a small groan of exasperation. From this angle, Woody had a perfect view of the way her curves seemed to flow against each other nicely like the calm waves of the sea bed on a clear summer's day.

_Damn it! _He felt vexated as he mentally slapped himself hard and heavy in the face. It was a matter of truth he couldn't keep concealed, to speak the truth. She really was quite a sight. _And she really will make you a sight for sore eyes if she found out you were thinking that way,_ his subconscious pointed out.

Breathing in and out deeply in attempt to calm herself down, she balled her fists against her hot eyes in frustration. "That damn idiot just doesn't know when to shut up." She paused briefly and lowered her hands to flatten the creases in her pyjama shirt. Of course she was upset - she'd been flickering in and out of depression for the entirety of this last month, ever since the day she'd received that sincere call from his best partner in action.

Her mind began dwelling on what had been said during breakfast causing her to sink into a deeper state of pessimism.

_"A nightmare?" Her uncle repeated, almost as though he'd been surprised. But then it clicked in place in the burrows of his mind and he sighed deeply. "I thought you'd gotten over them by now?"_

_She stopped eating and lifted her head to look at him sadly. "I thought so too, Uncle."_

_"Was it about him again?" This caused Jessie to pause and stare at him blankly. Of course it was. It was always about him, the one man she'd never forget. And it was always the very same phone call. The one exchange she'd feared with all the strength in her heart._

_But her answer only revealed half of what she'd been feeling inside. "Yes, it was." It always was._

_For a moment he didn't know how to respond, but then ended up asking the same question he always asked: "D'you wanna talk it?" Half of him expected the usual, whilst the rest remained subjected to change. Either way, the few words were best asked than thought. _

_Nonetheless she surprised him. It felt like it was the first real time she'd ever thought about that day truly and she really felt like she needed to open up to someone about it. So that was exactly what she did. "He was my fiancé, Uncle. He'd said he'd get through this last expedition and then we'd get married at the end of the year..." She almost trailed off, but then saw the look on his face and plucked up courage enough to continue. "And then after that we'd purchase a place of our own and then work on for anything else from there." _

_"I thought you were feeling better about it?" _

_"I was, but it comes and goes when it pleases."_

_"You've been taking eye on that Sheriff who lives around the corner, haven't you?" He asked. "A childhood best friend I believe?"_

_Her heart stopped at that. She didn't know what to think, or even what to believe inside. "Yeah, but it's just not..." She couldn't bring herself to say it. "Buzz promised me - " Then her insides swelled and her throat tightened as she forced the tears away. _

_She didn't think, logically, that she'd ever feel the same again after the death of her fiancé. And her uncle knew it-_

Jessie felt confusion in her emotions. She'd never felt this down before, but sometimes just being reminded of what happened could set the trigger to her dismay and she'd live through the experience again. But when her thoughts clambered over any of these aspects she felt vulnerable and idiotic for dwelling over it for this long. And when it all added up, it set her on a hell of a ride.

Blowing out another sigh through her nose, she hauled herself to her feet forcefully. "Well, I better get ready for work then."

Woody and Bullseye watched her from the window wondering what she was about to do next. When she crossed her arms in attempt to peel her shirt over her head, Woody became unwillingly aware of the fact that the curtains weren't drawn. And he felt this was odd, of course, until his thoughts came across something else.

_Oh please, don't!_

As if on cue, Jessie paused and dropped the hem of flannel. Her eyebrows arched as she pulled her right sleeve to her nostrils, arching her eyebrows quite suddenly before she relaxed in her place. "McWhiggan's in today," She murmured to herself. "So I better shower."

_Oh, thank God._


	12. The Death Defying Promise

_**Chapter Twelve**_

Only a moment after she left the room, Woody turned to Bullseye again. The horse's eyes were fixed on the door eager to await her next arrival, his tail wagging from side to side in anticipation. Woody himself still couldn't wrap his mind around any of it. Many things had occurred in the last few minutes that he just couldn't make any sense of and his head was spinning on the spot.

Firstly, the commotion of waking to his senses in a different room in the rising of a new day had driven him up the wall in disbelief. But then he'd had the downright impossible occur when he found someone that looked exactly like the Jessie he knew. And this was what made this day the weirdest one he'd lived yet.

"Bullseye!" He rasped at a sudden loss for breath. Suddenly found himself unable to control anything, he seized his right wrist and threw it across his face. A small grunt escaped his lips, and he bellowed backwards. Still remaining worthless with his bodily functions refusing to "I'm such a useless piece of trash!" Clasping a hand over his mouth, he finally caught the attention of the distant horse.

The expression on Bullseye's face was valid enough, the Sheriff presumed. At least, it was appropriate for this situation. A plain, clear sense of evident confusion and bewilderment etched within those succulent orbs so passively that Woody couldn't keep himself from feeling touched. Obviously, the horse was just as taking aback as he was, but there was one fact the Sheriff overlooked that Bullseye didn't. And that was the clearly punctulated detail of Jessie being within their reach.

But she wasn't Jessie, Woody thought. She couldn't be. Jessie was a toy not even nearing a foot tall with a figure almost as flat as his and this woman differed from her intently. Of course the similarities stood firm and vivid where they perched, but Woody felt sure enough to claim that it was just coincidental. This woman was near six feet tall with a body and curves that made him go...

_Wow! _She really had been a sight. He flushed inwardly now thinking back to it. If she hadn't changed her mind before when changing, Woody had no idea what would've happened to him. Presumably not much due to the fact that his internal structure did not replicate the one of a live man's, but even the thought was enough to make his thoughts go haywire.

The horse lifted his head towards the door's thresold and looked at it long enough for the Sheriff to wonder and follow his gaze. "What is it, boy?" His eyes narrowed when he couldn't find what Bullseye was indicating. All he saw was the soft texture of the white wood hanging a couple of metres above the ground. Unless it was there to act as a great reflection on her true inner character? _And _what was he thinking?

Eyes widening, Bullseye nodded towards the door again, but his gaze was this time a little lower. Then Woody saw it, everything the horse wanted him to see. It was right _there._

From this angle it took little to no effort for Woody to spot the front of the door the redheaded woman had just exited the room through and the small piece of papar that had been taped onto it with a single strand of duct-tape. It was a tender piece of construction papaer shaded purple to stand out and on it marks had been made. The quality was no better than the ones of a three-year-old, but the single name emprinted onto the paper in black biro was message enough.

Her name was Jessica.

...

_"I am very sorry for your loss, Miss Jane." Dark words flowed delicately in harmony with one another. Quivering, dreaded impulses overwhelmed her._

_"No..." Weakening logic kept her mind steady, though the urges there were appealing. A source of communication dropped, as she did, slowly falling. Motionless, shocked despair coursed through her nerves. Deadly, but all so subtle._

_This, she couldn't believe. Cradling herself, she hung on desperately._

_"No, no, no, no, no, no, no-" The chant was endless. Her head shook as drops of melencholy threatened their release. Plausible and frankly possible, the worst had been made. The unheard was made audible, and now her tears were free. _

_He had told her. Every. Damn. Phone. Call. Survive, oh how he would, he had claimed. Stronger than Satan, of course he was. The toughest thing out there, heck he was. He'd survive five months, without a single damn hassle. In and out. And out, he had told her, he would stay when the chance arrived. All in good time, he had said._

_A damn liar, he was. She had fallen for it, that god-damn stupid girl. The lies that came off his tongue, she had believed._

_And now she sat there, defeated. Her sadness clambered out of her system._

_Despair crashed down -_

_She didn't move for hours. Just sitting there hugging herself like she was the only comfort to herself in the entire world. All of the people inhabiting this planet, and yet she had only found one person that could make her feel better when her attempts were scrapped. One in a billion, he was, or six - _

_And she'd lost him. Soft tears strolled tenderly down her cheeks, but the aching pains in her heart still floundered on._

_More time passed before she heard the approach of human contact. Someone had knocked on the front door. The waterdrops of her inner spirit had ceased by now, but threatened to fall again should she remind herself of what she couldn't believe. Her uncle wouldn't be arriving home yet, so she knew that the person approaching wouldn't open the door._

_Pull herself together, she failed to. But she rose to her feet and answered the door before it could be tapped again. Only to be met by the town's Sheriff, the best friend of her childhood._

_"Hey..." He murmured softly, his round, hazel orbs appearing almost as soft as the tone of voice he was making use of. The first thing he noticed was her bloodshot eyes. She'd obviously heard... "He was my old partner, Jess. They told me about it, too..."_

_A blank moment, she stared at him for. Judging from the look on his face, he'd obviously been feeling despair of his own. How strong it was, she had no idea. But she knew one thing for sure: she hated the feeling of it no matter how intent it was. And it wasn't fair._

_When the crashing recollection of the melancholy came tumbling down upon her, she felt herself reliving the dreaded news all over again causing her jaw line to tremble. Suddenly, her old best friend felt useless in his position and didn't know what to do. What was he supposed to do? Of all the cases he's had to deal with in the past, the loss of a loved one had to be the hardest tale to handle. And it only felt worse to deal with when it was trying to comfort someone who had been close to him. Like trying to pick off the rust on an old friend without hurting them or making them feel worse, it was exactly. But sometimes one could only sweeten the blow. And now, the Sheriff feared, that was all he could do._

_"I'm so sorry, Jess..." He was about to embrace her gently, but by the time he could even make his move she'd thrown her arms around his neck in need of something to hold. Though started beyond belief, he allowed her action to pass and wrapped his arms around his waist._

_"Please don't die on me as well..." She muttered pointlessly into his shoulder. "Please?"_

_He didn't even understand what he was agreeing to, but he nodded. For the sake of her...  
><em>


	13. The Incomplete Collection

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

_Jessica_... Her name was Jessica. It was all there on the door printed onto a piece of paper that had obviously been crafted by a young child many years before. Slick and wavy, just like the sound of her name. And then, despite the obstacles in his mind that wanted to reject these factors of evidence from accounting in his thoughts, he just couldn't deny it before.

That woman had been _his _Jessie.

But how?

_But how?_ It was all he could ask himself. How could she be Jessie? She was a _toy_ with no gentical information encrypted into her that could even imply that she were human, or that she ever could be. A cowgirl doll with little to no hope, that was all she was supposed to be. Not a live person. How the change was even possible in the first place, Woody had no clue. Several things had happened to him recently that he'd been quite bewildered by, and these all perched in correlation with one another in the back of his mind. When one factor rose, it triggered another and so forth until he just couldn't come to terms with the own voices in his head. Firstly, Jessie'd dropped her facade to desert the rest of the trio inside the house to pursue her own yearning desires for freedom; then, they'd come across the grave of Emily Parker, her old owner, in the peculiar graveyard and had met the extremely untrustworthy Anne-Louise doll and then he'd left Jessie only to find himself here -

It took every ounce of Woody's inner will to keep himself calm when it struck him again, and hard. His thoughts were fogged and his logic went haywire as he again turned towards a very entranced Bullseye still looking eagerly at the door awaiting her arrival.

He reached towards the horse when he regained his senses. "Bullseye?" Woody placed his hand on Bullseye's mane. "Are you listening to me, Boy?"

As though the weight of the world had been dropped on him in a malevolent act of vengeance, Bullseye was left startled by the Sheriff's action and reared back in fright. Neighing in shock, Bullseye seemed completely and utterly terrified.

Fearing the worst could prevail, Woody absent-mindedly closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He let the breath go, and turned to the horse who was looking at him with his solicitous eyes narrowed in focus.

"What-" The Sheriff had something in mind to point out - something to ask that'd actually be of little use - but he found it slipping away from his head when he heard those footsteps heading towards the room again. Frantically, he ushered the horse to keep quite and freeze which Bullseye did and in turn became inanimate himself. They'd gathered their senses together just in time as the door to the room was opened giving way to the redheaded woman who'd changed into a fresh set of work clothes for the day that lay ahead.

Hair sodden and expression glum, she crossed the room towards the bed and reached for the bedside cabinet. Picking up a small object and holding it close to her face, she groaned. "Oh, just great. I'm going to be late at this rate." Obviously, her scorn of distaste had been directed towards a very concise watch of some sort.

From the windowsill, Woody and Bullseye watched as she prepared herself hurriedly. And it was only five minutes later that she finally noticed the two collectible items rested against the window plane. Her eyebrows sharpened in casual curiosity.

"Huh," She murmured simply. Her wide emerald orbs sparkled in slightly interest. Slowly rising to her feet she straightened out her red polo shirt with the crest of her boss' business on it and stiffened her posture. Her gaze was locked on the two toys and nothing else. Something about them, no more than a speck of dust on glass, seemed rather intriguing and out of place. Frankly, she felt invited to learn more. "I don't remember leaving you guys here."

Of course she knew who they were. Her Uncle had bought her these dolls for her ninth birthday after she'd watched some of his Woody's Round-Up episodes on video player as only a young child. It had been her favourite show actually as a child, though the season only lasted eleven episodes and had been terminated almost half a century before she'd been born. It had been much of a shame for her, as the cliffhanger had left her right on the edge of her seat.

Casually, she arrived at the windowsill and reached for the toys. She'd lost half of the group over the years much to her misfortune: A redheaded cowgirl her mother had named her after and a clumsy prospector. Honestly, she had no idea where they could've gone. One day as a young child, they'd been sitting in her toy box and then through natural fault of recollection, she'd lost them by the next day. But the rest of the group had been in a box in the basement for a few years now, and she couldn't remember bringing them back into her room.

_That's odd._ She thought. But, then again, it was hard to think now that her fiancé had been killed in action. So she could've done anything, subconsciously.

Retaining the dawning urge to sigh deeply, she flitted her eyes across the toys skeptically in half-hearted attempt to push the provoking thoughts into the pits of her mind where they truly belonged. She might as well just finish getting ready and deal with them later. And that was what she was about to do, until of course something caught her attention. Meanwhile, the situation was taking advantage of Woody and Bullseye's inner-will power. As she flicked her gaze from horse to Sheriff, Woody's logic was just too thorough to be incorrect. Her voice was exactly alike the doll's and her eyes held the same zealous texture he'd been so fond of in the cowgirl's eyes. Even the way she seemed to pout in deep thought reminded him of Jessie, and he just couldn't get rid of that thought. If she wasn't the Jessie he knew, then something was definitely wrong. No-one could be exactly like her and yet not _be _her. She was the most unique toy, alive or not, he'd ever known. Even if she did have her flaws. They had to be the same person.

But how? He asked himself again in pure defeat. Truth be it, he had no idea.

Bullseye felt nostalgic as she glanced at him again. Excitement he could barely contain bubbled through him making him feel energetic and joyful at the same time. But something about this wasn't right, and he knew it. His animal instincts however, whether they be artificial or not, had told him he'd been looking at Jessie right as she entered the room for the first time. But he didn't know how this could be so, as Jessie was toy and not human. Something he couldn't explain, for sure, but it was an impediment he could accept. And he wanted to, but Woody seemed downright befuddled and this made him feel out of place. What was he to think?

What on Earth was she thinking? Her eyebrows arched in interest as she placed the noble steed back down on the windowsill and as she brought Sheriff Woody closer to her face to examine him. His jeans seemed to be stained with something odd, glowing a mouldy shade of green in the daylight that shone vibrantly through the window. In curiosity she lifted the sole of his right boot and looked at the sole briefly. Usually, she'd expected to see the smudged marker pen on there from when one of the doll's previous owners had owned him many years before, but she couldn't see it this time. Instead, she saw dirt.

_What in the World...?_ She hadn't expected this, for she hadn't taken what she had left of the collection outside since she'd been a child - almost ten years before. Feeling rather baffled, she drew her hand back and allowed her expression to sink. That was very odd.

Then a thought struck her. A very strange thought indeed, but somehow it seemed plausible to her at this moment in time. Almsot as it - oh, she couldn't think of anything to explain how she felt. So she settled this by looking at the toy again, almost expecting it to react to something. She glared at it intensely for a few moments, just _waiting _for something to happen...

"Jessica!" Jessica nearly jumped out of her skins. Dropping the doll to the floor carelessly in fright, she turned around towards the source of the unexpected noise awkwardly. Unbeknownst to her, her uncle was now standing at the door gazing over towards her skeptically.

"Oh, sorry..." She murmured, trepidatiously in sunken thought. "You just frightened me for a moment there."

He took this note with a risen brow-line, obviously not taking it into much account. "Well, I'm about to pop out now for a bit. Would you be able to lock the doors behind you when you leave for work?"

"Yes," Picking herself together, she settled the Sheriff toy back in place. "Of course."

"Thanks, sweet heart."

And then he left, allowing her to prepare for the day ahead. Sighing, she sat herself back down on the bed and glanced at the time again. Distraught in some sense, she muttered: "I guess I should head off now."

A few minutes later, she was also gone. And when Woody came around to his senses, he inwardly cursed. _Dammit. _He had no idea what was going on here and, from the looks of it, neither did Jessica. He hadn't caught sight of her uncle, but the voice sounded vaguely familiar to him. Perhaps he was dreaming? Yes! That seemed like the best possible way to explain this all. But then his logic interfered with it all again. Did he have prove enough to come to this conclusion? There was only one way to test it out.

Bracing himself in anticipation, the Sheriff slowly raised his hand and took in a deep breath. Then, trying not to give it too much thought, he threw his right hand across his face. Nothing. But it still sure as heck hurt.

"Damn it!" He cursed, rubbing his cheek thoughtfully. It hadn't worked. Which only meant one thing: He wasn't dreaming. Besides Woody, Bullseye was staring at Woody oddly. But Woody did not have the time to dwell over this. Now that he knew he wasn't unconscious, he had to find Jessie and see if she has any idea of what has happened to them all.

"Bullseye," He turned to the horse again. "We have to go after her!"

And the horse did not hesitate. Rising to his feet frantically in glee, Woody quickly lifted himself onto his saddle and they shot off towards the door -


	14. The Private's Promise

_"**You** shouldn't go." She was smiling, the way she always did. That smile he loved, oh so much._

_"I wish," he scoffed, playfully, as he looked up at her slightly. "But they wouldn't be able to put up much a fight without me now, would they?" There was a grin plastered to his face, one that made her heart miss over its next beat.  
><em>

_She laughed, lightly, "I guess not..." murmured Jessie. A moment of silence, and she knew he was gone. There's no bringing someone back, not from a commitment like this; not the shy Buzz Lightyear from Elm high-school, a boy who looked up at the stars at night anxious to know of their true wonders. He was going to be a changed man - bearing the world at his shoulders and the stars in his eyes - and she was afraid to let him go. "The entire American army would be helpless without you,_ Private _Lightyear."_

_He knitted his eyebrows, exaggerating an expression of offence. "Hey, every Army needs a coffee-boy." Buzz joked and, with that, he kissed her cheek and embraced her. One last time. "Besides - I was smarter than ninety-two percent of the newbie's - I'll shoot like a supernova."_

_She smiled, and hugged him in return. "Just don't get killed on me," she breathed, softly into his shoulder. "Okay?"  
><em>

_"And why would I do that?" he asked, plainly. Jessie dropped her eyebrows, relaxing at his assurance. "I was partnered with Woody, Jess." He laughed, pulling her close enough to smell the spices in her hair. "If it wasn't strength that got me through that, then I don't know what it is."  
><em>

_"He's not _that _bad."_

_Buzz chortled. "Try working with him."  
><em>

_A sigh, "Just promise me, though. Please?"  
><em>

_"I promise, Jessica." He tenuously pressed his lips to her forehead. "Besides," he continues, laughing that hearted laugh that always makes her smile._ _"_We've _got a wedding to plan."__  
><em>

...

The sun continued its ascend into the rising day even as Jessie parked her raggedy SUV into the parking lot of Al's Toy Barn, at a triumph from its encounter with night. Beads of silvery sunlight glistened from the dirty and dusty paintwork on her vehicle, nonchalant as she was to the day.

She rolled the engine to a stop, sighing as she did so. Her eyes averted to the rear-view mirror, where she pecked and prodded at a few final strands of unkempt coppery hair until she decided her hair couldn't be any less of a rat's nest. As she started to deflate inside, she began to realize that she'd be like this for the rest of the day; if not the rest of her week. Her grouchy, old work manager was coming back today from his holiday to North France, and would most likely be in the foulest of moods when he came back in. That was how it went for him, especially since he was nearing his eighties (likely nineties, Jessie liked to presume). Every day was a burden with him and if he didn't like what his employees were doing, he'd come straight in and flat-out say it.

Spending as little time with him as possible would've made her happier; but that wasn't possible, so she had to be her best for the worst.

With a regrettable sigh, she opened the door and stepped out of the car, locking it behind her. As the day threatened to close with the onset of heavy clouds, Jessie headed to the building feeling miserable.

...

"Oh - just great!" The Sheriff turned to his steed, growling from the irritation building up within him. "She locked the door! How are we supposed to get out now?"

Bullseye stepped back, his ears sharpened like those of a puppy who knew nothing but how to be inquisitive, his big round eyes questioning. He looked to the window, tilting his head to the side in ponder, before he was brought back to reality by Woody's fretfulness "Why didn't I think of this before? Of course she's going to lock the car - she's not stupid."

Quite befuddled in thought and sense, Bullseye resumed his concentration to a space just below the car door's windo, frowning at the sense none of this made. When Woody eventually caught the jist that Bullseye wasn't paying attention to him, he turned to the horse promptly. "Bullseye? Are you listening?"

He wasn't, and this became clear by the way he remained still even after Woody had spoken. Woody knitted hs brows, following Bullseye's eyes to a space below the window, where he spotted a small leven standing up. Immediately, it clicked in his mind that this was his route to escape from the vehicle before Jessie comes back.

_How did I not spot that before? _"Bullseye," Woody said. "You are a genius!" He hadn't realized that they still made cars like these any longer, so his last thoughts had been to check by the windows. He crossed to the other side of the seat, and leapt to hopefully winch himself up. "Bullseye, give me a boost!"

Scampering over to him immediately, Bullseye knelt down besides Woody and lifted him up on his back. After he'd made sure everything was clear around him, and that no-one was watching them from afar, he clenched his hands around the lever and pulled it up. It clicked into place, but rappelled him backwards which would've made him lose his footing had it not been for Bullseye's instinctive change of position.

"Easy there, boy." Woody ushered, patting his back calmly. "Now, come on. We need to find Jessie."

...

"Mommy! Mommy! I want a Barbie doll!" A small child, no older than three or four, rushed up to a blonde-haired woman browsing for birthday gifts in the 'pink' aisle of Al's Toy Barn. Jessie, who was currently stacking doll after doll onto the shelves, with several boxes placed at her side, groaned slightly but kept on with her job.

The truth wasn't easy to hide: She hated this job and everyone who worked here, especially her _excuse-of-a-boss_ named Al. She never hinted otherwise in her expression, but she always spoke to the customers with a helpful mien she wanted to shoot.

"Mommy!" The blonde haired woman turned, just as the little girl tripped over her own two feet only a couple of feet away from where Jessie was working, _almost _hitting a box. The child fell over, and straight to the floor. She hit the floor with a loud _thwack_ and rolled over to her side cupping her knee as she started to cry. Turning her head quickly with ey3es widened by shock, she was about to quickly tend to the crying child; but by the time she could act, the mother stormed towards the child prodding an accusing finger over towards the redhead.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" The woman demanded before Jessie could even come to terms with what had happened. "This is a clear health and safety violation!"

"I-I'm s-" she couldn't finish what she was saying, because she was interrupted just as quickly.

"Leaving this junk all about! You could've killed her-"

"Is there a problem?" A voice from behind Jessie asked. She made to her feet, and looked to the voice she knew belonged to her boss.

"No, sir-"

"This _woman _proposed a direct Health and Safety violation," The woman accused, leaving Jessie to step back quite frightened of her voice. "And I suggest you do something about it right away, sir."

Al nodded, slowly. "No need to worry, ma'am. I shall tend to it straight away. Meanwhile, would you like to see to our free selection of birthday gifts?" he asked, beginning to usher the other two away.

A simple turn of his head directed his sodden eyes towards her, telling her to keep on working and that he'd see to her later.

A/N Apologies for the delay - I've just had a dreadful Writer's Block on this story, but was recently inspired to keep going.

Have a bright week ahead. :-)

~x~FanFicAddict02


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